Hurricane panic separates mother from son

For three hours on Wednesday, traffic in Lacovia, St Elizabeth, did not move an inch. Fallen light poles, tangled wires and uprooted trees covered the roadway as rescue crews, police and soldiers struggled to clear a path towards Black River.

Among the hundreds trapped in the gridlock was Portia Barnes, a Parottee fish vendor clutching a blood pressure monitor flashing 170. Her face glistened with sweat and worry.

"The media run me out a me house from Sunday," she said, recalling how she fled when storm alerts intensified. "That's why me have to go to me son in Mandeville fi rescue. All now me cya reach home, all now me pressure feel like it raise."

She sat thinking about all the worst-case scenarios.

Barnes left her son's house at six o'clock that morning, hoping to return home and see if her seaside property had survived Hurricane Melissa's assault. She operates Portia's Boat Tours to the world-famous Pelican Bar, and lives right on the beach in Parottee, a small fishing district about 10 kilometres west of Black River.

"Dem seh we affi evacuate because the sea water a guh taller than wi," she told THE WEEKEND STAR. "So we leave from Sunday."

Hurricane Melissa slammed into Jamaica on Tuesday as a powerful Category 5 storm, packing maximum sustained winds of 185 mph (295 kph). The monster system matched Atlantic records for both wind speed and barometric pressure at landfall, placing it among the strongest hurricanes ever to strike the region.

Much of western Jamaica now lies in ruins, with homes flattened, trees uprooted, and communities cut off from the outside world. Blocked roads and downed communication lines have deepened the distress of families who remain unable to reach loved ones trapped or marooned in isolated areas.

The line of vehicles heading towards Black River stretched for miles. Barnes was exasperated at the limited progress in the clearing of the roads.

But the frustration of the road was nothing compared to her fear. In the rush to flee, Barnes had accidentally left behind her 27-year-old son, who is mentally challenged.

"Sometimes when you a run from trouble, all you think about is to get away," she said softly. "But mi woulda never believe say inna the panic, mi woulda leave mi son," she said.

With communication down across the parish, she has heard nothing from home.

"We don't know what take place down deh, no call, no Internet, nothing," she said. "Mi don't know if mi son alright, mi don't know if the boat dem gone, mi don't know if the house dem still deh."